One stop, one score

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I remember sitting on the floor. Sweat dripping from my chin and my hair. Heavy breaths coming from my mouth and lungs, and all the others in the room. In the room adjacent, a scoreboard that had the numbers 38 and 18. Down by twenty. Half a game left. So tired. Gulping down water. Sweat stinging in my eyes. Holding on to hope of winning. The hope floated around the room and into my teammates. The hope lighting up eyes. Lifting chins. Calming down these players. This hope came from the words of my coach. Just like we practiced. One stop, one score. One stop, one score. 

You can't win them all. But keep pressing on. One stop. One score. I don't know what this means to you, but to me it represents something much larger than basketball. One stop, one score. One stop. One score. 

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